Turning Over a New Leaf

A Storm is Coming.

Leaves reverse their gaze

Moved by the wind’s symphony 

  God’s creation speaks

A storm is coming. Sounds of the shifting wind, swaying branches, rustling leaves infiltrate the air. Inverted leaves on the oak tree expose their belly and dance. Calming, invigorating and promising indicators of rain. Tells of the Lord’s hand in creation, presence in the world, love for humanity. The Divine Presence drops hints. I want to pay attention.

The turning of the leaves, differing shades of yellow, hues of red and layers of brown – God’s signature signs of fall swirling into winter. We control none of it. No matter how much we rake and gather the leaves on the ground, they continue to release their hold and descend, letting go. Falling. Even in the dying there is beauty. In the surrender there is regeneration. In the decline there is rising to new life. 

If the Creator’s design fashioned a world that regenerates from life to death to life, inspiring wonder and beauty, how much more does the Most High do this in me? For I am more precious to God than the birds and the lilies. 

What can I learn from the movement of the leaves as they surrender with utter abandon? In due season, they freefall to the ground to spur more growth in the spring. The Lord made it so. For, “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). The divine imprint on creation reminds me that all life, even in death, plays a part in the multitudeness of God’s imaginings. 

If I live my life in such a way that I am open to the dying that leads to new growth, I walk on a descending path. Can I turn when the Spirit encourages it, malleable enough to bend even when my ego wants to stand rigid? Even in the storm, God bears my capacity to surrender with gentle grace.